


A Fuller Christmas

by caramelle



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:07:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9011668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelle/pseuds/caramelle
Summary: She stands frozen in the lobby, her jaw hanging open. "Hey, Katey-cakes," Jacob Fuller greets, arms held wide. "Come on over here and give your old man a hug."Beside him, Seth's face is stretched in a shit-eating grin. "Yeah, Katey-cakes," he echoes, both brows raised. "Give your old man a big ol' hug."  Or, the one where Kate and Seth are neighbours who can't stand each other — until Kate's father shows up to visit his daughter for the holidays.





	

**Author's Note:**

> it's 5am and i don't think i'm seeing straight anymore so please forgive any weird spelling or grammar occurrences I PROMISE TO FIX ANY CURIOSITIES PROPERLY TOMORROW
> 
> happy holidays!!
> 
>  
> 
> (edit: i made an aesthetic for this fic! you can find it [HERE](http://caramelkru.tumblr.com/post/155123142736))

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When the pounding starts on the door, Kate's not even the slightest bit surprised.

 

Well. She _had_ expected to have to wait a little more than one single minute, but still.

 

She figures out the reason for the expediency of her not so unexpected visitor within two seconds of opening the door.

 

"Oh my _God_ ," she snaps exasperatedly. It's almost involuntary. Almost.

 

"Turn that shit _down_ , princess," Seth Gecko orders, one hand on his hip as he jabs a finger past her door like he can actually see the music bumping from her speakers.

 

"I _need_ it," she retorts, crossing her arms over her middle defensively. "And _you_ need some _clothes_. What the hell?!"

 

Her neighbour shrugs, seemingly unconcerned by his half-naked appearance. "I was _going_ to, but I got fucking _sidetracked_ coming out of the shower, didn't I? Turn that Barbie shit _down_."

 

"It's Mariah Carey," she says snippily. She blinks, the scowl melting from her face at his stone-faced expression. "Do you seriously not know this song?"

 

He folds his arms over his own very bare chest, pulling himself up to stand an inch or two taller, and Kate definitely doesn't pay attention to the way his pecs and biceps bulge with the movement.

 

"Don't _care_ ," he corrects, face creased with dissatisfaction. "You can't _know_ shit if you don't _care_ about it."

 

She shakes her head in disbelief. "How do you _not_ know 'All I Want for Christmas'?" she demands. " _Everybody_ knows 'All I Want for Christmas'!"

 

"All _I_ want," he repeats through gritted teeth, "is for _you_ to turn that fucking _riot_ all the way the _fuck down_."

 

"Well, I can't," she snaps, yanking her arms free. "I _need_ it. I'm trying to bake in here."

 

"Use _headphones_ ," he growls, the staunch set of his feet widening ever so slightly.

 

"Oh, are _you_ offering to clean up my kitchen?" she asks sardonically. "Because it's definitely going to end up a mess when the wire _inevitably_ gets tangled round a bag of flour or something."

 

"Well, then, don't fucking _blast_ that shit," he half shouts, tugging his own arms free to plant them on his hips again. "Some of us don't appreciate getting our eardrums shredded to bits by you and your friend Ms. Carey _screeching_ away over here."

 

Kate flushes, and _definitely_ refrains from paying any attention to the attention his new stance brings to the faint wisp of dark fuzz leading down past his navel and disappearing beneath the loose band of his black sweatpants.

 

"Well, _some_ of us," she says, forcing an edge of steel into her tone to hide the touch of breathlessness in her voice, "don't appreciate getting our optic nerves assaulted by an impromptu _gun show_."

 

She waves a disgruntled hand at his bare-chested form for emphasis, throwing an irritated huff in for good measure.

 

It may or may not take her a couple seconds to drag her gaze back up to his face.

 

"No," she blurts out at his smug smirk.

 

He raises both brows, a walking contradiction of innocence and danger. "No what?"

 

" _Bye_ , Seth," she all but yells, before slamming the door in his face.

 

Even through the door, she can hear him cursing under his breath.

 

"Turn it _down_!" he yells, his voice muffled even further by him walking away.

 

"Buy some _clothes_!" she shouts back, already halfway to her kitchen.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Kate's pretty happy with her apartment.

 

It's the first place she's ever had all to herself. She's used to growing up with her mother and father always just around the corner, with Scott always hovering at her shoulder or trailing at her heels. When she finally left home for college, she was almost shocked to discover just how much she'd liked having her own space. She'd liked it so much that she'd decided to stay even after college, much to her father's dismay.

 

She'd found her little apartment a few months before graduation. It had taken her a few weeks more to convince her dad to let her have it.

 

"I don't know, Katey," Jacob had said as he and Scott were helping her to move in. "I don't think you're going to like it very much here, all on your own."

 

"Don't worry, Dad," she'd reassured him, surveying her new home with bright eyes and a wide smile. "Me and this apartment are going to get along just fine."

 

And they did, much to her delight. She loves everything about this place — from the way the living room window lets in too much sunlight during summer, to the way the light switches are wired all weird so that 'off' and 'on' positions aren't standardised, to the way the shower always runs out of hot water after exactly thirteen minutes. It's not huge, and it's nothing fancy, but it's comfy, and cosy, and _hers_.

 

Although, there _might_ just be one or two things she doesn't exactly love about it.

 

Actually, just one thing.

 

One living, breathing, tattooed thing, with the face of a Greek god and the mouth of a degenerate pirate. Throw in the temper of an eighty-two-year-old man who sits on his porch all day yelling at little kids to get off his lawn, and, yeah, she's definitely hit the grouchy neighbour jackpot with Seth Gecko.

 

It would be fine if she only had to deal with him in the corridors, or in the elevator, or down by the mailboxes.

 

But see, the thing is, Seth Gecko has _warped ideas of ownership._

 

He doesn't seem to realise that within the confines of _her own_ apartment, she's got free reign to do whatever the hell she wants. For all intents and purposes, he sort of acts like he _owns_ the entire floor, including her apartment and the vacant unit further down the hall.

 

It's the only explanation she can think of, really. It's the only thing that could possibly prompt him to show up two or three times a week, banging away on her door until she answers, usually to tell her to turn her music down, because apparently, he's deathly allergic to _good tunes_. (That, and everything good and pure in life that brings humanity _joy_.)

 

Look, she's a considerate person, all right? Kate Fuller is considerate, and kind, and compassionate. She definitely wouldn't mind acquiescing to a neighbourly request here and there, if it would make the strangers she shares a building with happy.

 

But _come on_.

 

It's her _music_. She needs her _music_ , okay? Some people drink — beer, wine, whatever. Some people smoke — cigarettes, weed, et cetera. Others paint, or read, or fill scrapbooks up with pictures of Chris Evans, or Pratt, or Hemsworth or something.

 

As for Kate? Kate needs her damn _music_.

 

Honestly, she would not exactly be one hundred percent opposed to turning it down, just by a couple notches.

 

But the _way_ Seth Gecko _demands_ it, like he's _bossing_ her around, like she's fucking paying _him_ rent to live here?

 

No. Just, _no_.

 

He's _rude_ , and _obnoxious_ , and if he thinks she's going to acquiesce to _shit_ just to make _him_ happy, he's downright _insane_.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Honestly, she's just glad her dad has never met Seth.

 

Thank _God_ he'd been out of town the week she'd moved in. It was about eight or nine days into enjoying her new apartment before she'd had her first encounter with him.

 

If her dad had seen _that_ , he would have packed up all her stuff back into boxes on the spot with his own two hands and shipped her back home with him the very same day. (Seth _still_ has the scar on his finger, from when she'd slammed her door onto it. By accident, of course. Mostly.)

 

But now, six months into her lease, she's pretty proud of the way she's handled things with her prickly neighbour. She can confidently say that she's stuck to her guns.

 

The only problem is, he's stuck to his, too.

 

So, okay, maybe they haven't exactly made much progress with fostering neighbourly goodwill — but at least now they each have pretty precise estimates on just how stubborn the other can be.

 

Now, she's just worried about making sure her father has zero estimates on Seth Gecko, period.

 

"Hide him, maybe?" Scott suggests.

 

She blows an exasperated breath, switching the phone to her other ear. " _Hide_ Dad? _That's_ your big plan? You want me to _physically conceal_ a six-foot man from my neighbour." She scrunches her nose. "You're in _college_ , Scott."

 

"Hey, you asked for ideas, and I _gave_ you one," he says defensively. "I never said it was any _good_."

 

"Maybe I should fake one of those free cruise things for Seth," she says, turning the corner onto her street. "You know, like in the movies, when they need to get people out of town for a few days."

 

"Except you can't _afford_ a cruise, real _or_ fake," Scott reminds her. "Plus, I could be wrong, but Seth doesn't exactly sound like a cruise type of guy."

 

She sighs, one hand digging in her purse for her keys as she approaches her building. "No, you're right. He's definitely _not_ a cruise type of guy."

 

"Why is Dad even coming over there?" Scott asks. "I thought you were going home for the weekend or something."

 

Kate sighs. "I screwed up. I didn't want to spend all of Christmas week in Bethel, so I told Dad I'd only have the weekend free. He was fine with it at first, and then, out of nowhere, he calls me and tells me that since I'm all booked up, he'll come to me instead. I couldn't say no to _that_!"

 

"O, what a tangled web," Scott recites blandly.

 

"Shut up," she scoffs half-heartedly, pushing through the front door of her building. "I'll just have to figure something out before tomorrow, and make sure that— _Dad_!"

 

She stands frozen in the lobby, her jaw hanging open.

 

"Hey, Katey-cakes," Jacob Fuller greets, arms held wide. "Come on over here and give your old man a hug."

 

Beside him, Seth's face is stretched in a shit-eating grin. "Yeah, _Katey-cakes_ ," he echoes, both brows raised. "Give your old man a big ol' hug."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**wtf?? why'd u hang up on me**

 

**Rmb when I said Dad**

**was coming TOMORROW?**

 

**shit.**

 

**HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA**

 

**IT'S NOT FUNNY**

 

**u're right ITS FKIN HILARIOUS**

**HAHAHAHAHAHAH**

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The second she's got her father safely ensconced in her room and occupied with unpacking his small overnight bag, she ducks out of her apartment and scurries across the hallway to rap at Seth's door.

 

The insufferable smirk he's wearing when he opens the door instantly makes her clench her fingers into a tight fist. "Need something, _Katey-cakes_?"

 

" _Stop that_ ," she hisses, shoving her hair out of her eyes. "What the hell do you think you were doing?"

 

Propping a shoulder against the doorway, he surveys her with a raised brow. "What was I doing when?"

 

" _Downstairs_ ," she snaps impatiently. "When you were _talking_ to my _dad_?"

 

"It's how people _communicate_ , princess," he drawls lazily. "You know, _words_ and everything?"

 

She jabs a finger into his chest. " _What_ did you say to him?"

 

He shrugs, like he doesn't even notice the tip of her finger digging into his solar plexus. "He said he was waiting for someone. I asked who."

 

" _And_?"

 

"And he said his daughter," Seth says calmly, one large hand wrapping around her finger to lift it from his chest. "Now will you calm the fuck down? What the hell is wrong with me stopping in the lobby of my own building to make polite conversation with a nice, harmless old man of the cloth?"

 

"You don't _do_ polite conversation," she informs him icily. She pauses, blinking at him. "How did you know— you _talked_ to him?!"

 

"Do you know what 'conversation' _means_?" he asks, the corners of his mouth turning up in amusement.

 

"You—" she starts hotly, but whips around at the sound of her father's voice.

 

"Kate? You out here, honey?"

 

He appears in the doorway of her apartment, staring blankly at her and Seth standing across the hall.

 

And that's when she realises that her hand — that is, her _finger_ — is still very much trapped within Seth's hand.

 

She yanks it out from the warmth of his grip, hastily crossing her arms over her middle as she scrambles to compose her features into something resembling bland pleasantry. "Dad! Is everything okay?"

 

Her father's gaze travels from her to Seth, far too slowly for her liking. "Just fine, Katey-cakes. You two doing all right?"

 

"Yes!" she says before her neighbour can open his smirking mouth. "Just, uh, checking in with Seth to— to see if he knows what time the Christmas market closes!"

 

"You should have plenty of time, sir," Seth chimes in, and Kate does _not_ appreciate the undertone of _smugness_ to his voice. "Your daughter's got one hell of a day planned out for you. Heck, I'm almost jealous myself."

 

Kate pretends to laugh along with him and her dad, smiling wide as she digs her elbow back into Seth's ribs as subtly as she can. _Fuck_ him for calling her out on her lack of preparedness for her father's visit.

 

"Well, in that case," Jacob says, "if you're not doing anything tomorrow, you should come join us!"

 

"Oh, well," Kate says hurriedly, "he can't, so—"

 

"I'd _love_ to."

 

Her neck almost snaps with how fast her head turns towards him. "You _what_ now?"

 

Seth shrugs, still smiling at Jacob. "Who doesn't love a good Christmas market? Why the hell not!"

 

She presses her lips together, before forcing a light laugh, glancing at her dad. "But you have that _thing_ tomorrow, Seth. Remember? That _thing_? The one you have?" She glares pointedly at him. " _Tomorrow_?"

 

Seth purses his lips, squinting as if trying to recall something buried deep within the recesses of his memory bank. "Nope," he says finally, popping the 'p' cheerfully. _Fuck him_ , he's _never_ cheerful! "Totally clear."

 

"Great!" Jacob says, reaching across the small hallway to offer Seth his hand. "We'll see you tomorrow then, Mr. Gecko."

 

Seth laughs, and Kate stares at him in muted shock. He's _laughing_. Like a _normal person_.

 

What the _fuck_?

 

"Please, Mr. Fuller," he says, shaking her father's hand. "It's 'Seth' to you."

 

"In that case, it's 'Jacob' to you," her dad says with a smile, pulling back to look at Kate. "I'm gonna go root through your kitchen and get a start on dinner, Katey-cakes. Seth," he adds, with one last nod  at her neighbour.

 

As soon as the door closes behind her father, she rounds on Seth.

 

"What the _fuck_?!"

 

Seth's shoulders square up straight, all brisk and businesslike. "All right, listen up, princess, because this is a one-time only offer," he begins, his jaw hardening. "You can make me a _personal_ guarantee, _right now_ , that from here on out, your shitty music's gonna be kept the fuck _down_ — _or_ I can gatecrash your little father-daughter Christmas day out on the town like your very own Peter Pan shadow."

 

"How about _this_ ," Kate retorts, bristling as she plants her hands on her hips defiantly. "A big 'no' to _both_ your crappy ideas, _and_ you stay away from my father."

 

Seth sighs. "Guess it's option number two," he announces to an invisible audience. He steps back into his apartment, giving her an infuriating wink as he starts to close the door. "See you in the morning, _Katey-cakes_."

 

Kate opens her mouth to yell something hopefully more elegantly cutting than the half-cooked comebacks she's got brewing in her head — but then she decides that when it comes to an argument between two people, the one shouting at a piece of wood is definitely _not_ the winner.

 

"Oh, it's _on_ ," she mutters darkly, stomping back across the hall and into her apartment.  

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Kate cocks her head, pretending to peer worriedly through the window. "Looks like it's going to rain," she muses, as offhandedly as she can manage.

 

Her father raises a brow, glancing out the same window. "Looks fine to me. Forecast didn't say nothin' about a shower, either."

 

"Yeah, well," she mutters, turning away to put her empty mug in the sink. "You never know."

 

Jacob cocks his head, brows knitting together in a concerned frown. "You all right, honey? You've been jittery all morning."

 

"I'm fine," she says, a little _too_ loudly. Clearing her throat, she forces herself to face her father, pulling up a small smile. "Just want today to be perfect for you, Daddy."

 

He grins, warm and reassuring. "I'm spending the day before Christmas Eve with my beautiful daughter, getting to know the town she's chosen as her very own home away from home. Don't you worry about whether today's perfect or not, Katey-cakes. It already is."

 

 _For now, at least_ , Kate corrects him silently. But she swallows down on the knot forming in her gut, and returns her father's smile with one of her own.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Three hours later, she's starting to wonder if she's just spent the last six months hallucinating absolutely everything she's ever experienced of Seth Gecko.

 

Because whoever the man is that's walking about the Christmas market with her and her father, cracking harmless, PG-rated jokes and pulling out his wallet to buy them a round of hot cider, dark eyes crinkled in a permanent smile — whoever the _fuck_ that is, that is _not_ Seth Gecko.

 

At least, she doesn't _think_ it is?

 

No way is this man Seth Gecko. This easygoing, charming, practically _jovial_ man giving way to elderly ladies and bumping shoulders with her father — no way is this the same guy who's been storming around their shared corridor for the last six months like the Grinch himself, ranting on and on in her face at a pace of about sixteen F-bombs per minute, _just_ because of some slightly loud-ish _music_.

 

… At least, it _can't_ be.

 

"Relax, princess," Seth murmurs, sidling up to her as her father haggles with a vendor over a table of intricately carved ornaments. "Anyone looking at your face right now would think you're not having the time of your life."

 

"I'm _not_ ," she snaps, keeping her voice low even as she refuses to un-scrunch her nose. "Also, _don't_ look at my face."

 

Seth snorts, his elbow nudging into hers with the movement. "You know, you're allowed to show it when you're having fun."

 

"How could I _possibly_ be having fun?" she retorts, reluctantly shifting closer to let a trio of teenagers by. "For starters, _you're_ here."

 

He shrugs, the entire length of his upper arm brushing against hers. "Your old man doesn't seem to mind all that much. Hey, just think — this time next year, we could all be back at your old house, sitting down to a big Christmas dinner together. Turkey, stuffing, the works."

 

She groans, barely even able to muster up the strength for rolling her eyes. " _Don't_ get any ideas. Besides, when my dad finds out what a class-A _jerkface_ you are, you can kiss this blossoming bromance goodbye."

 

Seth snickers. "Well, first, I'm gonna propose a toast to this 'blossoming bromance' with some fancy ass mulled wine."

 

Kate's hand shoots out on sheer impulse when he takes a step towards the stall diagonally across from where they're standing. "Ugh, not that one. I think that guy dilutes his stuff with something iffy — my friend Jessica tried it last year and spent an hour throwing up after." With the hand that's _not_ occupied with gripping his arm, she points at the stall next to it, one manned by a young couple. "There, that one should be safe."

 

Once Seth manages to fight his way back through the crowd with three cups of rich, ruby-hued liquid, she's mellowed out just enough to accept one with reasonably good grace.

 

Mostly because of the big smile on her father's face when he takes his first sip of delicious mulled wine.

 

"Now that's fine stuff there, Seth," Jacob says, clapping a hearty hand to Seth's shoulder.

 

"It sure is, Jacob," Seth replies, the smugness in his smile evidently apparent only to Kate.

 

She rolls her eyes, deliberately turning away from him before lifting her own cup to her lips.

 

Goddamn, but it's good.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The only reason they even end up at the restaurant is because she's too tired out to put up any sort of resistance when Jacob suggests dinner to round out the day.

 

"I hope you like Italian, 'cause this is the best in town," Seth announces as they open up their menus.

 

"Well, now, this is a funny coincidence," Jacob says, his approving gaze roving over the selections. "Kate's favourite restaurant back home just happens to be Italian, too."

 

"Not that there's much to choose from," Kate adds, keeping her tone as offhanded as she can manage. "Hmm, the primavera sounds good."

 

"Come on, Katey-cakes, you loved that fancy little joint," her father says coaxingly. "Remember, Kyle used to take you there for _everything_ — your first date, your first anniversary together—"

 

"I remember, Dad," she cuts in tightly with a forced smile. "Hey, anyone up for bruschetta?"

 

"Kyle? Who's Kyle?" Seth's question is clearly directed at Jacob, but he's leaning towards her with that same infuriating _smirk_ on his face. "Old flame?"

 

"Yes," she says shortly, flipping her menu closed. She pretends to look around for a waiter. "Wow, I'm _starving_ all of a sudden. Should we order?"

 

"Kyle was Katey's first boyfriend," her father says, obstinately oblivious. "Oh, he spent a good chunk of junior year wooing my little girl—"

 

"And then we dated for a bit," Kate fills in hastily, avoiding Seth's eye. "The end. You guys know what you want?"

 

"Hang on," Seth says, his shoulders shaking with barely contained amusement. "I wanna hear all about this high school sweetheart. Sounds like something right outta a small town fairytale."

 

"Oh, it was pretty serious for a while there," Jacob says, nodding to himself. "Everyone was convinced they'd be married soon enough. In fact, towards the end of their senior year, Kyle even asked for my permission to propo—"

 

" _Dad_ ," Kate says sharply, her cheeks flushing warm pink.

 

Her father laughs, his big hand moving to cover hers.

 

"Come on, Katey-cakes," he says, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "It's all old news by now, isn't it? No need to get shy."

 

"Yeah, princess, no need to get shy," Seth echoes, a Cheshire grin splitting his face wide. "So what happened with Prince Kyle? No happy ever after? No riding off into the sunset?"

 

She grits her teeth, shoving down the urge to throttle him in front of her father and what looks like at least sixty other witnesses. "I told him I wasn't going to give up college to get married. He wasn't too happy to hear that. So I rode off into the sunset on my own." She turns to face him, head cocked and one brow arched in defiance. " _Happy_?"

 

To her surprise, Seth's smile is significantly less Cheshire-like. In fact, it's practically _fading_ from his face.

 

"Good for you," he says after a beat, a familiar gruff quality returning to his voice.

 

"That's my girl," Jacob says, and she blinks when she suddenly remembers that, oh yeah, her _father_ is sitting _right there_.

 

Thankfully, she's saved from having to come up with an awkward response when a waitress suddenly materialises at her shoulder with a perky smile and an equally perky greeting.

 

 

 

 

"So, Seth," her father says as they tuck into their loaded plates. "How's that bar of yours doing?"

 

"Just fine, sir,” Seth answers with a nod. “Business is better than ever, and we got a good regular turnout, plus plenty more new faces every night. Some nights we're practically sleepwalking, but it's all paying off big-time. We're even looking at buying over the space next door. This time next year, we'll be double our current size.”

 

“Well, now, I'd love to see that,” Jacob says, as Kate blinks blankly at Seth.

 

“Hold on,” she says, staring at him. “You _own_ the bar?”

 

With the odd hours Seth keeps and the faint musk of alcohol clinging to him whenever they pass in the corridor or ride the elevator together, she's already well aware that he works as a bartender. But it'd never occurred to her that he might actually have a place of his _own_.

 

“Co-own, technically,” Seth says, waving his fork dismissively. “With my brother.”

 

Her jaw drops. “You have a _brother_?”

 

“Honey, I'm surprised at how little you know of your own neighbour,” her father says, his brow furrowing in surprise. There's a slant to his tone that she instantly recognises as his most subtle _this-is-not-good-pastor’s-daughter-behaviour_ voice.

 

She shrugs, scrambling to recover the note of bland pleasantry she's been making sure to employ all day in front of her dad. "I— I guess I haven't been paying much attention."

 

“Ah, well, it's not too hard to miss," Seth says with an unconcerned shrug. “Me and my brother, we don't spend all that much time together outside the bar. You know how it is when you’re working with family.” His mouth curves in a charming smile. “Anyway, I try not to talk shop once I'm home — I'd much prefer to avoid boring your daughter to death.”

 

Kate forces a laugh, prodding vaguely at her pasta. "Then again, it's not like _we_ spend all that much time together, either. All we do is just pass each other by. Say hi here and there. Typical neighbour stuff," she says, casting a quick smile at her dad.

 

"Oh, come on, now, Kate," Seth says, grinning wide as he reaches out to rest his forearm along the back of her chair. It's not even that much of a stretch, considering the small size of the round table they're seated at. "We're friends, aren't we? We've got _so_ much in common. You know, sometimes," Seth says to Jacob, his arm still draped behind Kate, "we like to kick back and just chill. Hang out. Listen to some _music_ together."

 

A thrill of vindictive gratification streaks through Kate when he suddenly jerks in his chair, a soundless yelp escaping from his mouth.

 

"He _certainly_ likes to talk, doesn't he," she says to her father with an innocuous grin, one hand patting the bit of Seth's thigh that's just been sharply pinched under the table. " _On_ and on — never ends with this one."

 

Jacob's clear blue gaze flicks between her and Seth, his expression completely inscrutable for the first time in the last twenty-four hours.

 

After a long beat, he nods. "Well, Katey-cakes, it's good to see that you're getting along nicely with your neighbours."

 

"Not as good as it is for me," Seth quips, his voice noticeably strained.

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices his hand rubbing over his leg, the smallest wince crossing his face.

 

She feels good enough about it to order dessert.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Later that night, when Seth reaches for the whiskey bottle, it's really more out of habit than necessity.

 

He's still pleasantly buzzed from the mulled wine. That shit had been so good that Jacob had insisted they stop off on their way home for a second cup each, just to finish off the day.

 

Seth flops down onto his couch, whiskey in hand, and flicks the TV on.

 

If he's being completely honest, he's a little buzzed from the _day_ itself, too. He's not exactly sure what he'd been expecting, signing himself up to spend what eventually turned out to be all of Christmas Eve with his hella-cute-but-equally-annoying neighbour and her preacher dad. He'd just wanted to rile her up a little, to get her back for all the times she'd peeved him off with her obscenely upbeat pop tunes blasting through their walls.

 

The very last thing he'd expected to have was a _genuinely_ nice time.

 

For one thing, he actually _got along with her dad_. He's not usually one for kicking back with clergy folk, but he'd found himself to have a lot more in common with Jacob than he would have thought. They both tend to keep to themselves, and while they clearly have different sets of values and motivations, neither of them would describe themselves as open-minded. They both have a certain kind of grit that's particularly raw, and if they didn't get along as well as they do, they'd probably hate each other's guts.

 

It's not just Jacob, either. _Kate_ was something new.

 

Well. _Spending time_ with Kate was something new, at least.

 

In six whole months of living across the hall from her, he's never actually _seen_ her outside the confines of their building. In fact, today had been something of a novelty for him, experiencing Kate Fuller outdoors like this.

 

She'd been less _shouty_ , for one. (To be fair, so had he.)

 

She'd been a _lot_ more relaxed. Probably because she hadn't been channelling all her energy into thinking of a sharp comeback to whatever he's railing on at her about.

 

She was… softer, somehow. The light from the gentle December sun was all wrapped around her like a second skin, creating this golden outline around her mass of dark hair that made her look like some kind of Christmas angel.

 

She'd _smiled_ a lot more. Even at his (admittedly) terrible jokes. A lot more than she'd thought, too, considering the fake scowl she'd been putting up whenever she'd noticed him looking.

 

She's pretty when she smiles, he thinks idly. (Not that she's not pretty when she _doesn't_ smile.)

 

Either way, it's the best day-before-Christmas Eve he can remember having in _years_. It's left him with this funny feeling in his gut, all warm and fuzzy and shit. In fact, he'd only been half joking when he'd ribbed Kate about trailing along with her when she goes back home for Christmas next year.

 

His train of thought is cut off by the sound of knocking on his door.

 

It's a tight set of just three decisive, sharp knocks, 'rap-rap-rap' echoing down to where he's lounging in the living room. He frowns, setting his half-finished glass of whiskey on the coffee table before pushing up and off the couch, tossing his TV remote onto a cushion as he turns to head down the hall. It can't be Richie, because Richie never knocks. (Not that he ever _needs_ to, considering he has a spare key to Seth's apartment.)

 

It can't possibly be Kate, either. Her style of knocking usually involves her entire fist, making the sound come off hollower.

 

Also, she tends to accompany her knocks on his door with a good dose of yelling his name with varying degrees of annoyance and/or irritation. It always makes him picture her standing there in the corridor, all five feet and three inches of her, shoulders pulled up tight and arms folded staunchly in front of herself, her face all flushed and nose scrunched with indignation.

 

It's making him smile even now, as he pulls open the door.

 

Although his amusement quickly dissolves into surprise when he sees who's there.

 

"Jacob," he says, both brows shooting up.

 

Kate's father props his hands on his hips, glancing past Seth at the sound of the TV in the background. "Seth. Hope I'm not disturbing you in any way."

 

Seth recovers quickly, shaking his head as he pulls the door wider. "Not at all, sir. Just having a little nightcap before bed." He pauses, a sudden thought crossing his mind. “Where’s Kate? She all right?”

 

Jacob shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “She’s fine, just fine. She’s just popped into the shower, actually.”

 

“Okay,” Seth says slowly, trying not to think about how unexpectedly relieved he feels. He squints a little at Jacob, the older man's expression determined but otherwise unreadable. "Something I can help you with?"

 

Jacob shifts his weight from one foot to the other, the sharp blue of his gaze firmly fixed on Seth. “Seth, I'd like to think we can talk frank with each other, you and I. You know — man to man."

 

Seth stares at him. "Uh — yeah, sure. Of course."

 

 _Also,_ he adds silently, _what the fuck is going on?_

 

Jacob nods, squaring his shoulders as he inches the slightest step closer. "Good. In that case, would you like to tell me how long you and my daughter have been seeing each other?"

 

For a full three seconds, Seth's pretty sure he's gone clinically _deaf_ in his entire left ear.

 

"I—" he starts, and then stops. "Uh—" He pauses, and shakes his head. "Sorry — _what_?"

 

"There's no need to beat around the bush here, son," Jacob says, his tone laced with an edge of steel that instantly clues him in to where Kate gets her _and-I-mean-it_ voice from. "I understand why Kate would wanna keep mum about the whole thing. She's out here on her own, trying to carve out a life for herself away from Bethel, away from her old man." He holds up a hand when Seth opens his mouth, firm but calm. "And that's fine with me, it is. When I ask her what's going on with her, I understand why she'd wanna be—" he scratches at his head, brows furrowed, "—well, _delicate_. But, look here, that doesn't stop me from _worrying_ about my little girl, see?"

 

"Yep," Seth agrees faintly, his voice strained as he forces out a single, jerky nod. "But there's—"

 

"And I know what you're thinking, too," Jacob continues persistently, his hand replanting itself on his hip. "But you don't have to feel like you're not good enough for my Katey-cakes. My Lord and Saviour was a carpenter; I think I can handle my daughter choosing to be with a barkeep."

 

Seth barely has time to even _think_ about a response to that before Jacob's hand is suddenly clapping down on his shoulder.

 

" _Especially_ ," Jacob adds, squeezing down bracingly, "one who knows the value of _family_ , and good, old-fashioned _hard work_. Don't sell yourself short just because you sling booze for a living. You put in an honest day's work, and, believe me, that's more than respectable enough."

 

"Right," Seth manages after an excruciatingly long moment of staving off on entering a state of mild cardiac arrest. "Look, sir—"

 

" _Jacob_ ," the older man insists, giving a hearty shake to his shoulder. "It's 'Jacob' now, son. Don't you forget it."

 

"Jacob," Seth says hastily. He's highly aware of an uncomfortable flush of heat spreading under his skin, working its way up his neck and to his ears. "Yeah, uh, I just—"

 

"Before you say anything else," Jacob says, his sapphire gaze piercing as it rests firmly on Seth, "I just gotta make sure of one thing. So you look me in the eye, and you answer me this — do you care for Kate?"

 

Seth opens his mouth. And then closes it. He swallows, and opens his mouth again.

 

"Yes."

 

Jacob studies him for a long beat. Finally, his chin dips in a serene nod, a small sigh escaping his lips.

 

"If that's enough for her," he says resolutely, "then that's gotta be enough for me." His hand claps onto Seth's shoulder once again, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Thank you, Seth. I'm real glad you and I can be honest with one another."

 

"Oh," Seth says, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards in a weak smile. "Oh, yeah. Me too."

 

Jacob returns Seth's pathetic excuse of a smile with one of his own, squeezing down on his shoulder one last time before letting his hand fall back to his side. "Well, I should probably be ducking back in, before Katey-cakes finds out that I'm missing." He starts to turn back towards his daughter's apartment, and then stops, glancing back at Seth. "You two have a wonderful Christmas, now."

 

"You too, si— _Jacob_ ," Seth remembers just in time. He raises his hand in some sort of motionless wave, grinning dazedly as Kate's door closes behind her father.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Kate doesn't even bother with the peephole when the knocks sound in the morning.

 

She pulls open the door, one brow cocked. "Your new _buddy_ is already gone," she informs Seth, one hand propped on her hip. "He left a couple hours ago."

 

Seth stands there, looking vaguely awkward as he scratches at his head. It makes her frown a little, because if there's one thing she's never associated Seth Gecko with, it's _awkwardness_.

 

"Ah," he says slowly. "Right. Uh. That— that's pretty early, isn't it?"

 

She shrugs. "He needs to rest up. He's got two services to preach tomorrow." She blinks, snapping her fingers. "Oh, he left something for you, by the way."

 

"For me?" Seth says blankly, but she's already halfway to her kitchen, her back turned to him.

 

"Close the door behind you!" she calls absently over her shoulder.

 

There's a muffled sound that lets her know that her door is indeed being closed accordingly, and then Seth appears in the doorway of her kitchen. "It's not a Bible, is it?"

 

She snorts, reaching for a large round tin sitting on her counter. "My dad's a _pastor_ , Seth. Not a Bible salesman." She crosses over to him, holding the tin out with both hands. "Here."

 

Seth raises a brow, reaching out to take the item. "This looks familiar."

 

"It's those cookies from yesterday's market," she confirms with a small smile. "He wanted to get you something for Christmas, so, yeah. Merry Christmas, from my dad."

 

He glances up at her, one corner of his mouth tugging up into a crooked smirk. "So is it like some kind of sin if I open these before Christmas?"

 

She rolls her eyes, folding her arms over her middle. "I really doubt it's high on God's list of priorities. Knock yourself out."

 

"Awesome." The smile on his face fades slightly, and he clears his throat, his shoulders drawing tight as he pulls himself up to his full height. "So. Uh — big plans for Christmas Eve?"

 

Her nose scrunches in thought. "Besides challenging myself to get through every single Christmas movie in Netflix's entire catalogue within twenty-four hours? Not really, no." Her gaze narrows suddenly, zooming in on him with suspicion. "Why?"

 

"No, I—" He coughs, nodding hastily. "Yeah, okay. Sounds like a plan."

 

She squints at him. "Is that mockery in your tone? Are you _mocking_ me? Because some people just _like_ to stay in on Christmas Eve, okay? It's not that big a deal if—" She cuts herself off with a sharply drawn breath, one accusatory finger pointed at him. "Is this about my music again? Good _Lord_ , Seth! Look, I promise not to shatter your eardrums with my corny holiday cinema selections, okay?"

 

"Actually," Seth says, before he can lose his nerve, "I was wondering if you wanted some... company."

 

The silence that follows is almost stifling in its thickness. He can quite literally feel it weighing down on the back of his neck, like a tangible _thing_ in the room there with them.

 

After a long beat, Kate clears her throat.

 

"Don't take this as me being defensive or anything," she says, a little crease etched into her forehead, "but, uh… why? Would you want to do that, I mean."

 

He shrugs, tipping the large tin in his hands back and forth. "We both got through yesterday alive and breathing. Maybe we should see if we could do it again."

 

This time, the silence stretches on even longer than before.

 

He also kind of gets the vague sense that she can see right through his thick skull to his actual _brain_ , which is probably turning to liquid mush as the seconds tick on.

 

Suddenly, Kate hums.

 

"Well," she says slowly, unfolding her arms. "I guess we could, yeah." Her finger jabs into his sternum again. "But _I_ get to pick the movies. _And_ control the volume, all right? No grumpy old man complaints."

 

"Maybe some middle-aged man complaints," he says, feigning a grudging tone. "But okay, princess, yes, I accept your terms."

 

She flashes a bright grin at him, nimbly nicking the large tin of cookies right out of his grasp. "Also, you have to share."

 

"Hey!" he says, following her out of her kitchen. "That's _literally_ daylight robbery! Pretty sure God would _not_ approve, _just_ sayin'."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Twelve months later, he actually does end up trailing along with Kate when she goes back to Bethel for Christmas.

 

"But technically, your dad invited me," he argues as they turn into her street. "So it's not really tagging along if I got my own invitation."

 

"Sure it isn't, babe," she says, with a patronising pat to his cheek. "Sure it isn't."

 

**Author's Note:**

> holler at your girl [on tumblr](http://caramelkru.tumblr.com)!
> 
>  
> 
> (edit: check out the aesthetic i made for this fic [HERE](http://caramelkru.tumblr.com/post/155123142736) <3)


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